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lay of leithian, or, why decima is no longer allowed to propose thread ideas while manic
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They're stopped by scouts again, though the arrangement and identities are a bit different.

Still, one steps forward and says, "This realm is claimed by Nargothrond in the name of Lord Finrod Felagund. Who trespasses here, and what is your business in our lands?"

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"Luthien of Doriath, and Beren daughter of Barahir. We wish an audience with Finrod Felagund."

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The scout inclines his head, gaze going briefly distant.

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And Beren takes a steadying breath -

And reaches out.

Osanwe's difficult, and most people don't have the talent of it. It's even harder to get someone to listen to you; a person's mind is closed, their thoughts wrapped securely within their soul, without them making a significant effort to the contrary. Beren had been one of the few mortals to master it in her zeroth life, and she'd adored every aspect of it.

It feels too intimate now, with a long march of deaths and forgettings behind her. She usually only lets Ellie into her mind, increasingly sparingly as the loops have gone on.

This is important, though.

Her mind brushes politely against Finrod's. He'll recognize her. You can't lie here.

'I come as an old friend,' she says. 'Regardless of what has laid before, and I swear I have no ill intention to you or any you protect.'

'Figured you might want to freak out about my presence before letting me into your city.'

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Finrod's always been an open book. It's one of the things that makes immortals uneasy around him.

His surprise flashes clearly across the distance between them - and then an unsure, almost hopeful question.

'Why?'

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'Falling in love complicates things.'

'She doesn't know who I was. She wouldn't accept it.'

'And we need your help.'

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A pause, a heartbeat long -

And the scout tells them, looking faintly confused, "Lord Finrod will come out to greet you himself."

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"...Very well."

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"Thank you."

That could be good or bad.

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Finrod moves rather quickly to their side of the bank, approaching them - wearing only his daily light armor, sword at his waist. He examines them, expression even...

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Then smiles.

"It's been a long time since I've seen either of you."

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"So it has, Lord Finrod."

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"You seem - happier," he tells her, then turns to Beren. "And you've grown."

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...They'll be okay.

"Mortal children tend to do that," is all she says.

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"A very excellent quality of theirs."

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"Among others. You know Beren, but I would like to introduce my betrothed."

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She gives Luthien an adoring smile and squeezes her hand. "And my betrothed, the most amazing woman in all of Creation."

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She laughs.

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"A happy turn, then," he says, smiling. "Come, you must be weary from the road - let's get you settled."

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"That would be most welcome, thank you."

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Inside, then. He shows them their suite first, and makes clear that he won't bother them if they want to rest - though if they'd like the tour, he can show them around the city. There's a library, even - he doesn't get much use out of it, he'll admit, but he saw how many people wanted books and couldn't afford them, so funded a public one.

(The Nargothrond of this loop is enormous compared to that of previous loops, satellite settlements spreading out around it. It's as secure as possible, of course, but Finrod's sacrificed security in favor of kindness more than once. It's yet to turn around and bite them.)

(There's more than just elves, here. A huge portion of the population are human, and even several dwarven families have moved in entirely, and Finrod's given shelter to the only surviving group of petty dwarves even if that means getting into very polite arguments with those who disapprove. Beleriand is dwindling, its people dying off - except in this realm.)

(This Finrod did not abandon Dorthonion to burn, did not leave Barahir's men to defend their land alone. Far more people who would call him Lord have survived.)

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(But this is, of course, the only Nargothrond Luthien has ever seen.)

She compliments Finrod on how well his people seem to be flourishing. Though she would like a bath before the complete tour, she thinks.

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Alright, he'll leave them to it - Beren can just send for him when they're ready.

('I want to talk to you,' he sends to Beren, 'But it can be later.')

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'Okay.'

'I'd like Luthien - not involved, I suspect.'

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And he heads out.

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